


Friends

by im_fairly_witty



Category: The Princess and the Frog (2009)
Genre: Facilier's older sister is much smarter than he is, Gen, To make friends you first need an introduction...
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-13
Updated: 2019-12-13
Packaged: 2021-02-25 22:07:43
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,871
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21782674
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/im_fairly_witty/pseuds/im_fairly_witty
Summary: I’m finally able to post what I wrote for the Princess and The Frog 10 year anniversary Blue Skies and Sunshine zine! Enjoy my take on how the Shadowman got his start with his friends on the other side.
Comments: 1
Kudos: 8





	Friends

“Marceline, come on, I thought we are friends?” Facilier crooned, smiling with a pout as he crossed his long bony arms on the tabletop.

“I’m your older sister, not your friend,” Marceline said sharply. The gold hoops and small bones hanging from her ears clattered together as she shot him a dark look. “And I said no, André. You’re already deep enough in hell as it is without voodoo. Now get.”

“Aw, those are mighty fine words coming from a witch.” Facilier said with a grin. He smoothed one hand across the silky maroon fabric of the tablecloth and plucked a sickly green feather from the pile she was sorting. It made his fingers itch with an icy hot feeling, “And I told you, I don’t go by André anymore.”

“Well I’m sure not calling you “Doctor” nothin’,” Marceline snapped, snatching back the feather with ring encrusted fingers, her long nails scratching his hand. “You’re not even a man yet and already so full of yourself you’d think you were a royal dandy, strutting around with that ridiculous silk hat of yours. Did you kill someone for it, or were you rifling through trash again?”

“Marci please,” Facilier said, dropping his smile, leaning heavily on the table, palms up amid the scattering of foreign coins and silver trimmed tarot cards, “I need an introduction, and I know you know them.”

“Which is why I’m telling you _no_.” Marceline growled.

Facilier could have sworn he saw a flash of otherworldly purple light in her eyes just now, and the sight sent an excited shiver down his spine.

“What do you want?” He asked eagerly, “Marci please, I’ll cut you a deal, whatever you want, I’ll get it for you, but I have got to meet them.”

“This is why I’m not letting you meet them, you idiot!” Marceline said, standing and slamming her hands on the table, a sound like a thunderclap shaking the small heavily draped room.

He glanced around the dim room, his breath catching a little as the shadows in the corners of the room seemed to sway and swirl on their own. He looked up to see Marceline’s own shadow, cast from the flickering light of the kerosene lamp on the table, loom up over him.

It seemed even angrier than she was, and if his mind wasn’t playing tricks on him, her shadow was watching him.

“You and your deals,” Marceline spat, her gold canine tooth showing its tiny ruby inlay as she sneered at him. “You’re so desperate for what you want that you never think about what will be required of you. You’re so filled with jealousy and greed that they would chain your soul in an instant and you wouldn’t even know it until you were being dragged into an early grave. You have no self-control André, that’s why I’m _not_ introducing you to them.”

But Facilier barely heard her, only seeing the way her shadow was stepping around the walls of the room on its own accord, the way that the old wooden masks hung on the walls seemed to be looking down at him with intelligent fanged grins, and the dark electricity in the air that he could feel tingling through his bones.

So much power.

Real power.

He _had_ to have it.

“Look Marci,” he said, getting to his feet, a small switchblade slipping down his sleeve and into his hand behind his back, “I need the kind of power you’ve got, and it’s not fair for only you to have it. I came here hoping you’d do me a favor, but if you want to do this the hard way then-”

Marceline snapped her fingers and he felt himself thrown back in his chair hard enough to crack his head against the high wooden back. His wrists were pinned to the arms of the chair, something dark and solid feeling nearly crushing his wrists, forcing his hand open to drop the switchblade, the knife silently falling to the plush carpet underfoot.

Marceline walked over to him, gripping his face in one hand hard enough for her nails to cut into his skin. There was definitely a harsh purple light in her eyes, as purple as Mardi Gras beads, flickering and glowing as clearly as the lamp on the table, which had turned a shivering lime hue.

“ _No_.” Marceline said.

Facilier was pretty sure that for at least that moment, when her voice dropped deeper than any human he’d heard before, that her dark skin became translucent, showing the bones beneath, making the dark curls escaping her bandana even darker against the pale bone.

“Okay!” Facilier said, not having to fake the sweat breaking across his forehead as he tried to lean away from her, trapped against the back of the chair, “Alright, I’ll give it up, okay? Just let me go, I’ll leave.”

Marceline glared at him for another moment, then released his face with a shove. The darkness around his wrists slid away and he saw her shadow slip back out up the wall behind her.

He felt his jaw gingerly, getting to his feet.

“But how did you meet them?” He asked.

Marceline snarled slightly in warning, her arms folded tightly. The shadows in the corners of the room whispered and swirled, their hushed chattering sounding teasing and mocking.

“Well,” Facilier said, stooping to retrieve his switchblade, taking the moment to scan for something promising looking that he could steal, but seeing nothing that caught his eye, “it was nice seeing you Marci,” he straightened, tipping his top hat to her like a real gentleman, “I’ll be seeing you around.”

“Not likely.” Marceline said dryly.

She flicked her wrist and the door out slammed open, making Facilier jump. Just a little.

“Give up your search.” Marceline said, watching him sharply as he walked out the door, “Trying to make friends on the other side will only chain you down, not get you the freedom that you want so badly. Promising away your soul will only end badly for you.”

“Have a wonderful rest of your evening, Marci.” Facilier said, waving a hand gaily as he walked down the alley without so much as looking back.

He heard the door slam shut behind him, and when he glanced back the door had vanished entirely. Marci’s place was completely gone, leaving only overgrown cobblestone in its place.

Facilier ground his teeth together as his pretended smile dropped.

He had been so close, so close. He had seen it, he’d felt it, all that power and Marci had kept it all to herself.

Anger rattled through him as he savagely kicked at a crate, picking up an old stick from among the trash and cracking it in half against the wall. He panted as he held the broken half of a stick and continued to beat and kick every bush and box and bit of trash in the ally. He didn’t care if he looked ridiculous, he needed to take out this overwhelming rage on something.

He spotted the flickering sickly pale lamp high on the wall above him, its flame an odd yellow green, almost like Marci’s had been.

He growled, looking around for a cobblestone he could heave at it to shatter the glass.

But stopped when he felt something.

It was a soft kind of tug at his feet, a tingling sensation where his shoes and his shadow and the cobblestones met. His shadow was stretched along the ground and halfway up the opposite wall.

His chest was still heaving a bit from his tantrum but his eyes were wide as he stepped closer to the wall, letting his shadow move up it in full.

“I want to make a deal.” He said quickly, holding up his hands, making his shadow do the same, “I need some friends on the other side, I want power, I want glory, I want to be even more powerful than my sister.”

His heart raced as his shadow smiled, doing something shadows should never do.

“I’ll give you whatever you want,” he said, rushing on. “Money, my soul, the whole city, whatever you want, just help me.”

He watched as his shadow creakily began to move by itself, one dark hand peeling itself off the wall, black bony fingers reaching out to him as if offering a handshake.

Facilier grabbed the hand, shaking it as hard as he could.

It felt like a bolt of lightning struck him, a shattering thunderclap rocking the ally, making him stumble back as colored sparks and dancing shadows swirled in his vision. A biting shivering sensation ate up his arm, sweeping through him in a single painful moment.

He blinked hard, trying to clear away the ghostly afterimage of a cackling…something…from his sight.

He gasped for breath as he shakily pushed himself to his feet. Apparently he’d fallen. He still held his half a stick in one hand, his other, the one he’d shaken with, felt as though he’d burned it in a fire despite looking perfectly normal.

Facilier shook a little, looking around for some sign that whatever had just happened was real.

“Is that it?” He yelled at no one, “Where are you? I wanted power!”

He felt another tug at his feet, a much stronger one this time, and looked up to see his shadow waving at him. Instead of the stilted slow movement it had had a moment ago it now shifted as easily and loosely as he did, as if a second him were casting it.

His shadow smiled when it saw it had his attention, tipping its hat. It held up the shadow of the stick they held in their left hand and pointed to it, making a snapping motion with its free hand.

Facilier looked at his broken half of stick, a mounting sense of excitement growing in his chest. He snapped his fingers and nearly dropped the piece of wood when it changed into a sleek glossy cane with a burst of light, leaving tendrils of purple mist to fall through his fingers.

He started to chuckle, a chuckle that turned into a full laugh as he brandished his cane at the night sky in triumph, the purple knob at the top glinting darkly in the weak lamplight.

“Yes!” He called into the night, not caring who heard him.

Because he had done it, he’d done it.

He glanced back at his shadow, who applauded silently in approval, grinning as widely as he was.

Facilier tipped his hat back into place, leaning grandly on his new cane as he looked down the alley, then started walking.

It was going to take a lot of experimenting to see what it was that he could do, a lot of trial and error and a lot of deals to get stronger and stronger. He knew enough about magic to be sure of it.

But he was grinning as he stepped out into the street, his shadow trailing behind and to the side of him in the wake of the streetlights above.

Because he didn’t care, he’d finally gotten power and he couldn’t _wait_ to see what he could do.


End file.
